Hay cuentos aún por inventar

Walking blind on a rooftop
stumbling in the dark.
Who said it’s not more fun
than following the beaten paths?
Slipping down your body,
sprayed by confusion.
Doubt is my scarf,
your fear is my pain.

Looking at the sea
storms splash, clearing the stupidity.
I pull the chain
and say goodbye to my little piece of reality.

There are stories to be told.
There are stories yet to be told.

I shoot the cop that lives in me,
spit on Peter Pan.
Disobedience for a snack
and skill to trip over the wolf.

Not now, now yes,
this little line is for you.
Doubt is my scarf,
your fear is my pain.

Looking at the sea...